


Pleasures of the Flesh

by Lokifan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Non Consensual, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokifan/pseuds/Lokifan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Harry had been knocked unconscious a lot in the last seven years. This was the first time he’d ever woken lying on silk sheets, or with heavy cuffs cutting into his wrists, or naked. It was certainly the first time he’d woken with Lucius Malfoy’s hand on his thigh.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pleasures of the Flesh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brief_and_Dreamy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brief_and_Dreamy/gifts).



> This was written for melusinahp's birthday in 2011.

Harry had been knocked unconscious a lot in the last seven years. This was the first time he’d ever woken lying on silk sheets, or with heavy cuffs cutting into his wrists, or naked. It was certainly the first time he’d woken with Lucius Malfoy’s hand on his thigh.

As his mind snapped back into place, he gave a great gasp as though he’d been saved from drowning and yanked his leg away. He was lying on a bed in an elegantly appointed room without windows. The cool air caressed his bare skin, and made him shiver as it slithered across his groin.

Harry’s thighs clamped together in reflexive shock at the sight before him. His glasses were gone but there was no mistaking the waterfall of shining hair on the man sitting by him on the bed, or the smirk on the pale face.

“Mr Potter,” came that drawling voice, with its rounded RP vowels. Lucius shifted a little, now almost close enough to press his warmth against Harry’s naked hip. “How remarkable it is to see you again. I honestly never expected it.”

“What...” Harry spluttered, barely knowing where to start: his brain seemed to have sputtered to a stop. The sudden starburst of fear, the rush of sensation as he fidgeted against the silk sheets, wriggling away from Lucius’ insidiously caressing palm... Harry panted, overcome by extremes he hadn’t felt since before Voldemort’s death, and tried to think. “How did I get here? Is this the manor? And _why_...” He yanked his leg away from the warm hand once more, “Are you _touching_ me like that?”

Lucius regarded him for a moment, silent and still. Harry’s skin itched with awareness of the predator. “You are indeed in my home, Mr Potter. You might remember that Draco issued an invitation for dinner?”

The familiarity of Draco-related fury got Harry’s mind back on track. “That little bastard! He said he wanted reconciliation, and I believed him! The traitorous snake!”

A soft chuckle brought Harry’s eyes snapping back to the Lucius-shaped blur. “He did want reconciliation, Mr Potter. The younger generation does amaze me... you’re all as foolish as each other. Why Draco didn’t suspect what I would do...” He shook his head in bemusement, Harry thought furiously, at the signs of decency in his son.

“You tricked him! Your own son!”

Lucius suddenly leaned close, his shadow blocking out the candlelight. Out of the blur came two pin-sharp eyes, cold and grey as the North Sea. Harry stared up into them, not daring to blink. “My own son,” Lucius hissed, “watched me go to Azkaban while he walked free! And you – you allowed me to go to Azkaban, when you protected my wife and son.”

Harry swallowed, and reached for courage. “You were hardly there long, and you deserved it! They didn’t!” he insisted, and almost quailed at the fury in Lucius’ eyes.

“Well,” Lucius whispered after a moment, his teeth biting into the word as if it were a peach full of juices to bleed into his mouth, “since you were so adamant that I be denied the pleasures of the flesh, it seems only fair that I partake in the pleasures of yours.”

Harry gaped at him for one long moment, while the silence fell on them both in a long drape of silk. Then Lucius leaned in a little more. That tiny movement set Harry off: struggling, jerking, pulling frantically against the cuffs and kicking out with his feet, anything to keep Lucius away. The metal bruised his wrists, and there was brutally little slack in the restraints, but he couldn’t give in.

“Stop!” he yelled at the top of his voice, though Lucius wasn’t yet touching him: he could feel his face reddening, his lips twisting in terror. “If you dare touch me, I’ll – ”

“All this struggling is quite pointless,” Lucius murmured. He was sitting unruffled, just out of reach of Harry’s kicking feet, playing one gloved hand over the knob of his cane. “No one can hear you, and I’ve made it quite clear to Draco that we are not to be interrupted.” He cast a calculating eye over Harry’s chest, now flushed and sweaty with exertion. “Of course, that’s not to say that your struggles are _entirely_ without merit.”

Harry shuddered. Lucius’ eyes lit up at the movement, and the blurred shape of his mouth stretched into a smile. “Fuck you,” Harry managed, feeling the fire of anger quaver inside him, threatened by the cold air of Lucius’ presence. “You – you pervert.”

Lucius chuckled. “You do appeal to me in your innocence, you know. Pervert? That, dear rabbit, is far too mild a word. ‘Deviant’ is the preferred term, but it’s hardly necessary for you to know the theory. After all, you’re about to learn the practice.”

“No!” Harry said desperately. “Let me go, and I won’t say a word! People will come looking for me – you can’t think you’re going to get away with this!”

Lucius’ chuckle rolled out like sea fog. “But rabbit,” he whispered, as if in surprise, “Malfoys always get away with it, in the end.”

“No,” Harry choked out again, but Lucius had apparently tired of his protests; his amused smile dropped away, to be replaced by narrow-eyed focus. He put out one gloved hand and smoothed it up Harry’s flank, from the indentation of his waist to his right nipple. Harry felt a tiny shock of pleasure as Lucius’ fingers slid over his nipple, like a firefly had collided with his skin.

Harry’s pounding heart seemed to shrink in his chest, cowering from the smoothing of Lucius’ palm over the skin of his chest. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going, knowing that Ron and Hermione would tell him he was stupid for going to meet Malfoy. He was living alone in Grimmauld Place. No one knew where he was, or where to look for him if he didn’t come back. And Lucius Malfoy’s hand was sliding further down.

His stomach muscles tightened in reaction as Lucius’ hand played over the soft skin of his belly. He felt horribly vulnerable with that hand _there_ ; just where a wolf would bite, to send a rabbit’s soft entrails spilling into its mouth. Worse was the way Lucius’ soft stroking was waking his nerves, even past the fear. The tips of the long fingers rubbed gently over the taut skin of his stomach. Lucius seemed content with this for the moment, but –

Harry wrenched his eyes from the sight of Lucius’ pale hand on his body, and looked up into his face. Lucius’ eyes were alight, his face brilliant with a smile that looked like a snarl. Harry’s breath hitched with the sudden thrum of fear singing through him.

Lucius leant down, his hair brushing over the bare skin of Harry’s chest, and kissed him.

Harry was fighting before he realised what was happening: flinging his head to the side, swearing again, desperately trying to escape. Lucius _growled_ , frightening Harry further with the arousal in the sound, and suddenly he was on top of Harry, lying half-across him, hot and heavy and close and inescapable. This was immeasurably worse than the slow touches of a moment before: this was Lucius’ body, pressed against Harry’s, forcing the knowledge of its weight and curves and details into his mind.

Lucius’ face was close now, his greedy expression in perfect, inescapable focus. He seized Harry’s chin in one strong hand, and the other gripped Harry’s hair. Harry yelled, wrenching his head so hard his eyes watered and it felt like his hair was being ripped out at the roots. But Lucius held fast – held him – and his soft mouth touched Harry’s jaw, dipping between his own fingers as they held Harry still.

Lucius wasn’t trying to kiss his lips again. Harry lay still for the moment, carefully staring at Lucius’ pale hair: he couldn’t bear to meet those pale, greedy eyes. Lucius’ mouth was soft, gentle even, as it worked its way up his jawline. Harry was still breathing fast, and every time his chest expanded it pressed harder against Lucius’ body. He was terribly aware of his own nakedness; he suddenly seemed to have so much skin, so many places Lucius could touch him.

He could smell Lucius’ hair; the scent lay heavy on his tongue. Lucius kissed him on the soft spot behind his ear, and Harry felt himself tremble a little: Lucius Malfoy shouldn’t be so close, had no business touching such a vulnerable place. Lucius chuckled into his ear, the sound deep and cold as the ocean; then he licked the shell of Harry’s ear, all the way along in one obscene movement. Harry cried out, wordlessly indignant.

“Ssh, rabbit. Aren’t I being nice to you?”

Harry clenched his teeth and stared resolutely forward. He wasn’t going to play Lucius’ game.

Lucius laughed a little, though there was an edge to the sound. “Sulky boys don’t get nice things, Potter.”

Harry scowled at the air and tried not to feel Lucius shifting a little, getting comfortable atop him. At least Lucius was still fully clothed.

Although Harry could now feel the full length of his cock, hard and hot and pressed tightly against his stomach. His stomach churned at the feeling; he felt himself go a little light-headed, until he wasn’t quite hearing whatever Lucius was now saying.

Lucius removed his hand from Harry’s chin and slapped him sharply. His hand in Harry’s hair held him still, all the better to feel the full impact of the blow. Harry blinked, feeling the sting and heat of the slap, and for a moment met Lucius’ eyes.

They were overbright. “You’re not going to fade away from me, Potter. You’re going to feel every last little thing I do to you.”

Harry thought of Draco, who had wanted reconciliation and been defeated so easily. He was always defeated, right from the start: but Draco had never given up, never hesitated to throw himself into an attack. He might be spiteful and cowardly, but once he decided on a course of action, he would not be turned aside.

Harry thought Lucius might be the same.

He shut his eyes. He’d survived the Dursleys for eleven years, even when they starved him and hurt him and locked him away from the light. He could come through anything. He just had to hold on.

He felt Lucius lay his hands between Harry’s thighs, opening his legs in one smooth, inescapable movement. Then a finger pushed its way between his cheeks. Harry heard Lucius’ small groan of appreciation as he found Harry’s hole.

Harry gasped, the raw sound hanging in the air; but Lucius only chuckled and stroked at his flesh. He wasn’t forcing his way in, only gently touching him.

Harry felt sick at the intimacy. This wasn’t how it was meant to be. Lucius Malfoy was touching his – his arsehole, and doing it gently, and Harry’s legs were spread like he was _inviting_ him, like the two of them were – something.

“Rabbit? You’re not trying to go away on me, are you?”

The voice jolted him but Harry kept his eyes shut. He could feel himself trembling, the taut muscles of his thighs shifting against Lucius’ hands.

“Harry. Open your eyes for me.”

He firmed his jaw despite the anger in Lucius’ voice. He wasn’t giving up on his one way of fighting back.

“Potter. Open your eyes, or I will call my son in here, and he will have his turn when I am finished with you.”

“He wouldn’t!” Harry scorned, opening his eyes for a flash before he caught himself. “He isn’t like you. You know it.”

A moment’s pause, and then Lucius spoke with anger clear in his voice. “Likely not. Let me put it another way: open your eyes, or I will call my son in here, and I will make him hurt for every order which you do not obey.”

Cold flooded Harry’s stomach. He couldn’t... couldn’t let Draco be tortured because he wouldn’t open his eyes. He hesitated for long moments. The only sound he could hear was his own half-panicked breathing. Surely Lucius wouldn’t do it, though. He loved his son. He wasn’t going to hurt him just for the pleasure of Harry’s obedience.

But to take that risk... And there was another, less noble concern worming its way around the corners of Harry’s mind. Draco Malfoy wasn’t his rival any more. But the shame of being seen like this, by _him_...

Harry shuddered as he opened his eyes.

Lucius was waiting. A smile insinuated itself over the pale face as those eyes met Harry’s. “There you are.” He slipped the first finger inside.

Harry felt his face twist at the sensation, the knowledge that Lucius was _inside_ him. Lucius was still smiling, and he held Harry’s eyes as he slicked him. Harry’s cheeks burned at the sensation, at the inescapable focus of Lucius’ eyes, at the knowledge that Lucius could see all the fear and pain and horror as it happened.

And that first moment, when Lucius’ finger flickered against something inside him, and it felt good.

Harry shut his eyes for a moment in cringing embarrassment, but opened them again immediately. Lucius said nothing, but his smug smile was eloquent.

Lucius prepared Harry slowly. It frightened him: Lucius fingered him like it was a luxury, like he had all the time in the world to play. He teased and stroked at Harry’s rim, watching his face greedily for his reaction. Harry tried to keep his breathing steady, tried not to react; then he was fucking Harry with two fingers, deliberately mimicking the movements. Harry hid his face against his arm, trying to escape the humiliation.

Lucius chuckled. “Sweet boy.”

He slid another finger inside. Every movement was so slow. Harry hated it, hated how it made him aware of every incremental move, every detail. The weight of Lucius between his legs, the cool air on his skin, and all the sensation centred between his legs as Lucius played with him.

He could feel himself getting hard. Slowly, at first, and then more quickly as his body roused to Lucius’ touch. Harry’s stomach churned with the knowledge of it. With the awareness of how much of his own body Lucius was taking away from him.

At long last, Lucius’ eyes slipped from Harry’s face. The relief of it was enormous; he couldn’t bear feeling Lucius see, and drink in, every element of his violation. But now those knife-bright eyes were focused between Harry’s legs. On his... on his _hole_. Embarrassment burnt through Harry at such focus on such a private part of his body. And yet there was blessed relief: Lucius said nothing about his cock, hard against his belly and beginning to ache.

By now, Lucius’ breathing was as shallow and quick as Harry’s own. His lips had drawn back until his smile was a snarl, his eyes bright and intent as he opened Harry until he could fuck him with four fingers, slick and slow.

When Lucius slid his fingers out, Harry was horribly aware of the open, slick feeling down there. Discomfort squirmed in him at the sensation. It was like he’d been... well, made ready for this. Only he _wasn’t_ and --

“Very nice.” To Harry’s surprise, Lucius pulled back and slid off the bed. He slid a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping his fingers. Harry was relieved, but the image of Lucius cleaning himself off, as though he didn’t want to be dirtied with touching him --

“I do so prefer preparation by hand. Enjoyable in its own right, and it helps me ensure that any pain I cause is entirely under my control.” Harry shivered at the smile Lucius gave him. “And I think you enjoyed it as well.”

Blushing, Harry clenched his thighs together. “I didn’t! You’re a -- you used magic on me! To make me -- ”

“Yes?” Lucius enquired delicately. “To make you what, precisely?”

Harry kept his mouth shut.

“Ah. You think I used some spell to make you hard.” He was unbuttoning his robes. “You’re under the misapprehension that it took something other than fingers and your own innate wantonness to bring you to arousal. Yes?”

“Yes! I -- ” Harry hesitated. “I know you did something. You’re a bastard, you’d never not use an unfair advantage when you had it!”

Lucius was too far away for Harry to see his face clearly without his glasses, but he saw Lucius go still in the middle of undoing his cufflinks. “Interesting,” came the murmur. “I daresay I shall prove you right.”

He finished undressing at his leisure. Harry felt sick as Lucius prowled back across the bedroom, pale and bare. He tried forcing himself to go limp. He couldn’t win, but that didn’t mean he had to make it more fun for Lucius.

Lucius joined him on the bed in a shock of warm skin, of sleek muscle pressing Harry into the bed, of hair tickling him. Lucius slid atop him, and Harry felt the heat of Lucius’ hard cock against him. Panic rose inside him but he couldn’t, he was going to stay calm, ignore those _disgusting Death Eater hands_ on him --

Lucius leaned in to kiss him.

Harry spat in his face.

Lucius froze. In the long moment before he moved, Harry’s stomach went cold. What was he going to do now?

Lucius slapped him across the face so hard that Harry felt his ears ring. Then he slapped Harry again before wiping savagely at his face, his lips drawn back in a snarl. Lucius’ face was close enough that Harry didn’t need glasses: he could see every detail, the hint of madness in Lucius’ face, and fear hit him like a tidal wave.

“You revolting little _brat_! How dare you -- in my own home! Filthy creature. You think - do you think because I was in Azkaban once you can -- ”

Lucius cut himself off, but he was panting. Then he reached for his wand. Every muscle in Harry’s body clenched before Lucius cast his wordless spell.

He felt his teeth clench, his mouth sealing shut. Harry made a panicked noise but couldn’t open his mouth. He kept crying out in increasing panic, and Lucius laughed.

At that sound, Harry managed to force back the panic enough to go silent. But his heart was pounding. The magical gag was terrifying, though he could breathe without difficulty. It wasn’t painful. It was nothing that should frighten him like this, but the loss of control...

Lucius was watching his face with evident pleasure. Then he forced Harry’s legs apart. Harry’s heart was in his throat and then Lucius thrust inside him. Lucius’ lips were drawn back in something that was almost a grin, his expression one of unmistakable triumph.

Harry cried out through his teeth as Lucius kept going. He felt himself clench around the length of Lucius’ cock as it sunk inside, his body rebelling. Lucius’ eyes sank shut and he moaned. The long sound of undeniable pleasure made pain flare up inside Harry: it made the truth of what was happening inescapable.

Lucius fucked him slowly. Harry felt every minute movement of Lucius’ cock inside him, and he thought Lucius did too. It burned and hurt, and Lucius’ eyes were bright.

Exploratory fingers plucked at his nipples, and Lucius chuckled. “Charmingly responsive as ever, Harry.” Harry squirmed at the sensation. Lucius pinched him then, hard; Harry fought back the whimper behind his teeth, but tears leaked from his eyes.

Fingertips drummed down his ribcage, making him shiver. Lucius’ mouth was warm on his neck, kissing him, licking at his skin as if to learn his taste. The feel of Lucius’ teeth against his sensitive skin was terrifying, though arousal rose queasily in his stomach.

“There’s much to learn about you,” Lucius murmured against Harry’s ear. His hips were moving faster now, and Harry made a little noise every time Lucius bottomed out. “It’s going to take a while, making you truly mine. But then, I’m a man of leisure, and you’re a hermit. I’ve time to spare.”

Harry made an angry noise. He hated the magical gag keeping his mouth shut, his tongue still. Lucius was laughing at him. “Angry little savage. So ruled by your passions.”

Lucius’ hand curled around his cock. Harry cried out in misery as Lucius stroked him to full hardness. Every stroke was slow; this was just another way for Lucius to take ownership. Harry fought it. Lucius was playing with him, he knew it, and he _didn’t_ want this. But Lucius was stroking him from within and without. Harry’s body bowed helplessly as Lucius touched him; the arch of his back pressed him against Lucius’ warm, heavy body.

Lucius was playing with him, watching him harden and struggle and flush, and still Harry couldn’t stop it. Lucius’ eyes were cold and bright, like spears of ice, as they watched him; and yet the heat in Harry’s body kept building. Panic and pain and arousal rose, twisted together, as Lucius touched and played, drawing reactions from Harry’s body that he couldn’t control. Pre-come was slicking Lucius’ fingers now, as tears trickled from Harry’s eyes. He could hardly breathe. Lucius was fucking him harder now, his hips thumping between Harry’s spread thighs, and it only increased the ache of desire.

Harry came, crying out, clenching painfully around Lucius’ thick cock. Lucius groaned and fucked him still harder through his orgasm, until Harry could feel his throat quiver as he tried to hold back the whimpers. Lucius kept touching Harry’s cock as it softened, fucking him right through his oversensitivity. He came with a low sound: he didn’t need to shout _mine_ when Harry was covered in the smell of him.

Lucius withdrew slowly. Harry grimaced, humiliated, at the slick feel of it. He could feel Lucius’ come dripping slickly from him. But when Lucius’ weight moved off him, Harry took one long breath in relief.

“Do have a nap if you so wish, rabbit,” Lucius told him. He leant over Harry and stroked his hair, ignoring Harry’s flinch. “There’s no point in waiting for rescue; Apparition here is limited to the family. And you might need a rest.”

A firm kiss. Lucius held his chin in place until he was finished, and Harry miserably wished he could bite.

Lucius smiled at him, and Harry felt chills roll over him: as if, now that Lucius had claimed him, he had been encased in ice.

“My lady wife will be visiting later.”


End file.
